


Love and Obsession

by SirKris



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, I may add more tags later on, Jealousy, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Rating may change to M, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirKris/pseuds/SirKris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Gladwell, Molly’s first love has re-entered her life and much to Sherlock’s dismay, threatens to be her ever after. The consulting detective’s hatred for the man is matched with equal intensity when he comes to understand Sherlock’s motivation. Unsolicited feelings aside, Sherlock can’t shake off the feeling that something is very wrong with Robert, but their uncanny similarities and sentimental involvement hinders his objectivity in pinpointing the problem. Until he is able to do so, Sherlock, Robert, and Molly will be locked into a dangerous conflict where they will come to learn how destructive it is not to draw a line between love and obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Encounter

Sherlock had never really been concerned with her suitors in the past, always confident that with or without assistance, they would run their course. Tom had a been a close call, but despite their engagement status he had estimated their fallout to take place well on before a wedding date was finalized. Robert Gladwell would prove to be different. He was no Tom, nor like any other romantic partner of Molly's he had ever come across. It may have been because of their history, but it didn't matter.

He should have never brought her along to that case. It hadn't even been a five, why had he insisted on bringing her along? Even a different route would have been better. He should have done something, anything to delay or avoid their encounter. Sherlock knew every turning point he ever had in his life but nothing would prepare him for the irrevocable change that Gladwell brought on.

 

* * *

 

"I know I've said the police are almost always out of their depth but that was ridiculous!"

"Sherlock don't be mean. I could see why they jumped to the conclusion."

"But a suicide Molly? Who shoots an arrow through their own head?"

They were walking down the street away from the crime scene where Sherlock had to have met the most idiotic human being to walk the Earth. The new forensics scientist in charge of the case made Anderson look like a genius.

The look of utter disdain on Sherlock's face teased out a laugh from Molly, a mistake she now realized when it became more difficult to keep up with Sherlock's brutal pace.

"Well don't take it out on me!" She finally huffed out upon realizing that Sherlock was not going to slow down. From the look on his intense face, he was probably too busy insulting the IQ of the forensic in charge, or expanding the vicious deductions he had made. Poor Johnson, she thought. Did Sherlock need to point out the man's preference to wear lingerie in front of his colleagues?

Having not caught on to her predicament, Sherlock turned back to give her a puzzled look. "You and your long legs." She gestured pointedly towards the space between them. "You really need to be considerate of us little people."

Sherlock snorted. "You're not that vertically challenged," he said while gracefully dodging a playful kick from Molly. He did consciously made the effort to slow down to a pace that didn't require Molly to jog.

For what it was worth, Sherlock wasn't entirely upset about wasting his time doing the forensic team's work for them. It had been fun to see Molly work, rapidly shooting observations for the incompetent idiot to fawn over. The memory caused him to no end. It was bad enough Johnson was an imbecile, but the unwanted interest in his pathologist had been unacceptable.

He personally has zero patience for stupidity, even if or not it was trying to woo his pathologist. Tom had been the great exception, given he had to take Molly's feelings into consideration but Johnson had been open game. He admits may have enjoyed the utter horror of him revealing his preference for wearing knickers a bit more than he should have. But as far as Sherlock was concerned, he should be considered gentleman for holding back on man's evident signs of having an Oedipus complex. Molly might not have appreciated him revealing that much about the imbecile, especially since he suspected she reminded the man of his mother.

"Oh, come now, Johnson wasn't so bad," she chided. He realized from Molly's grin that his thoughts must have been apparent on his face."I could almost hear insults." Sherlock opened his mouth to offer a few choice examples of just how 'bad' he was when she shook her head. "I might start feeling sorry for the poor sap."

"So you admit he was a moron!" He exclaimed, quite happy to know that she had no interest in the specialist at all.

"I would go as far as saying that, though someone might want him to stick to the lab work" she admitted. Even in the face of mediocrity Molly was polite. How she managed to keep those social niceties was beyond him.

"Please. He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a microscope, let alone forensic evidence. Scotland Yard should have his salary reimbursed."

That burst a dam in Molly as she fell into a fit of giggles; they even had to stop walking so she could recover. Just the fact he was so tickled because of warmed his chest and a goofy smile tugged at his lips as he watched her try to catch her breath."He was awful, wasn't he." She said in between her gasps.

Sherlock liked her laugh. To his ears it sounded like a bubbling stream; it was unrestrained and absolutely genuine. She laughed a lot more around him. Apparently she thought him to be hilarious. He supposed it was an indication how far she had come since he first met her. No longer was she the stammering mess that answered his every whim. He suspected the Molly he has come to be very good friends after Moriarty's second defeat was her true self, the character she always had been when he wasn't around her.

He found his earlier irritation at the case fade as he watched her eyes crinkle in amusement, beads of tears threatening to fall down her very flushed cheeks. They appeared to be rosy red, especially in light of the cold November afternoon. It took him several seconds to realize he was gawking at her and quickly looked away and resume his walk—although much slower—to encourage her to follow.

Great, now he felt flustered. "Care for some Indian food?" he asked awkwardly. "I did see a promising restaurant on our way here and I am aware of you're now very keen to ethnic flavors." He could feel himself calm down as he kept walking; it did help not to look at her face.

"I suppose I should thank you for expanding my palate. I've tasted the weirdest things ever since I let you order my takeouts." She was walking alongside him now that he had found the perfect pace for her to follow.

"You're more adventurous than you think," he said, still trying not looking at her.

"I should hope so given the kind of cases you've—" Her feet stopped as abruptly her words did. The suddenness of it all caused Sherlock to turn back to look at her, momentarily forgetting that he had been avoiding her face.

Her smile faltered to one of utter surprise as she looked across the street, where a lone man was standing with an equally shocked look on his face. In one glance he registered the grey toque and matching scarf adorned over the the pea coat he was wearing. Those details were irrelevant compare to the emotion that etched his face as he looked at her. It was a look he had seen time and time again when Molly had subjected him to watch her silly movies; although the scene playing out before his eyes wasn't silly at all. In fact it felt like a chunk of lead had settled in his gut that made an unpleasant twist when he heard her whisper what could only be the stranger's name with so much familiarity, it almost physically hurt. Sherlock was quickly coming to recognize the encounter for what it was.

A lovers' reunion.

He didn't realize it then, but Sherlock would come to relive and regret this moment. As unintentional as it had been, he should have never allowed them to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote this chapter just to see if the story had any promise. So far I'm 49% sure I'm going to continue with this. I'll be more certain when I wake up tomorrow lol. Comment/Kudos if you like. They always make my day!


	2. Miss You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be a multi-fic after all! 
> 
> Oh dear...

"I suppose I should thank you for expanding my palate.” Having finally overcome her giggling fit, Molly was able to catch up to him. “I’ve tasted the weirdest things ever since I let you order my take outs."

She couldn’t remember when it had started, but Sherlock had taken a liking to barging into her flat at what normal people would agree were odd times of the day and night to have her eat with him; odd for others, but always spectacular for on almost every occasion she had in fact been hungry. She should make a point to ask him one day how he does that, although she already suspected it had to do with the fact he had memorized her life schedule. How else was he able to occupy every free moment she had to spare to go gallivanting with him across London?

"You’re more adventurous than you think," he said.

That brought a smile to her lips as she thought of all the chaotic cases she had endeavored to solve with him. She doubted any pathologist in her field ever got to see the action she could achieve in a week with Sherlock. Molly was halfway through articulating her thoughts when she saw him, standing across the street.

Everything she had been feeling or saying prior to meeting his eyes dissipated as her mind tried to wrap around that moment. Was it an illusion? Had her mind lapsed into the corners of the mind to she perhaps been in a dream the subconscious drudged up his projection, for that was all it could possibly be. It had been years since he ceased to plague her dreams. Why would her mind be conjuring him up in her waking hours? Despite herself, she heard herself whisper name she had once felt was a part of her very being.

“Robby.”

She didn’t know at what point it happened but they were both closing the distance, him crossing the street and her walking up ahead to meet him. It was as if a pull had taken over her, and it felt like it was jumpstarting something she believed had ceased to exist. They were merely feet apart now, and she couldn’t help herself staring up at him. It was like he hadn’t changed at all, but he had. If anything the time that passed had been good to him. Molly felt her stomach flip when his eyes crinkled up to form a small smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

They both laughed nervously, realizing they had spoken at the same time. She was at a loss as to what to say next and tugged back an invisible wisp of hair. Robert recovered first and was about to say something when their enraptured spell was broken by an irritated voice.

“I would love to enjoy this painful exchange but I rather occupy my time dining, not gagging.”

They startled slightly at the intrusion and Molly turned back to see a scowling consulting detective upraising them both with disapproval practically etched into his face.

Wait, when had she walked past him. Her face flared up when she realized that Sherlock had seen the whole thing. Oh God, she hadn’t looked like a love-struck teenager had she?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

Molly whirled around to face Robert. “No it’s fine!” she said a bit too loudly. Inwardly she was cringing at her over-enthusiasm.

Sherlock casually strolled up beside her to stand before Robert. Realizing that the two men had no intention of introducing themselves, Molly took the initiative to do so.

“Oh um, Robb-er Robert this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock this is Robert Gladwell.”

She watched anxiously as Robert held out his hand to Sherlock and Molly braced herself for the embarrassing deductions that never came. To her surprise, Sherlock chose to be civil and offered him a firm handshake.

“He’s a friend,” she blurted out suddenly. It wasn’t until the words escaped her mouth that she noticed she wasn’t quite sure whom she was referring to. The ambiguity was apparent to both men who were now staring at her. Molly focused on Robert who seemed to have understood what she was trying to say.

Sherlock, on the other hand seemed slightly put out; at what, Molly didn’t know. She hadn’t overstepped her bounds assuming they were friends right? Or was he annoyed by her pathetic attempt to downplay Robert’s significance? Sherlock must have deduced everything by now, which was why his uncharacteristic silence was throwing her off.

“Nice to meet you.” Robert said to Sherlock who merely gave him a tight-lipped smile. Molly supposed it was still better than she would have expected form him.

“We were heading out to dinner.” Molly explained she was sure Sherlock wasn’t going to say anything rude. “Would you like to join us?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sherlock cut off drily. “He’s already eaten and had been on his urgent way to attend to a needy pet. Most likely a dog given the state of his tasteless jeans.”

Apparently civility only went as far as a handshake with Sherlock. Molly shut her eyes briefly in an effort not to groan, and as a result missed the odd look Robert gave Sherlock. She opened her eyes to see him laugh good-naturedly.

“That’s impressive. Sherlock was it? At first I had you penned for an investigator but you’re more sophisticated than I thought.”

Robert smiled as Sherlock initial smirk had turned into a mild frown. Molly on the other hand breathed a sigh of relief when it was apparent that Robert hadn't been offended.

“A dog?” Molly enquired curiously. “I thought you were allergic.”

“Still am. The hairs are from a stray but I do have a grumpy Shorthair waiting for her meal.” He pulled out a small tin of tuna from his coat pocket. Sherlock made a noncommittal sound as he acknowledged the correction.

“Yes well if that will be all then we’ll be on our way.” Sherlock began to walk ahead when he stopped to look back at Molly who hadn’t yet moved. An unreadable look passed over Sherlock’s face before his indifferent demeanor took over his features once more.

“I’ll order ahead and let you two...finish.”

Molly couldn’t help but roll her eyes when he pulled up his collar against the nonexistent wind and walked away from them. She couldn't complain though; Sherlock could have made it much worse.

“Sorry about that. He can be a bit rude.”

“A bit?” Robert cocked his eyebrow in mock surprise.

“Okay, very rude.” She admitted, not without smiling.

Silence fell over them as they quietly looked at each other. Molly took in the green eyes she hadn’t seen in over a decade. He had allowed his jet-black hair to grow out from the short buzz he preferred during their uni days. She could now see how curly their ends could be now. That wasn’t the only thing he happened to grow out over the years, Molly thought as she looked down at his lips. He had also grown out thin goatee, slightly thicker than a stubble but not overgrown. If anything, they emphasized his lips so much more. She never had a thing for facial hair but Molly couldn’t help thinking it looked rather attractive on him.

“What?”

She blinked up to see him eyeing her in amusement. Molly could feel her cheeks warm up. Once again she was falling victim to her shameless gawking; she really should stop.

“N-nothing. Just—” She pointed to her upper lip as an indication.

“Oh.” Robert rubbed his mouth self-consciously. “Does it look weird?”

“It actually works,” Molly said, quite proud of herself for not stuttering this time around. Then she forgot how to maintain her body temperature when he flashed her that dashing broad smile that had girls trying to trip her in class. Wow how had she forgotten that?

Robert grinned. “You blush as hard as ever I see.”

She huffed, trying to look affronted. But his smile was contagious and she found herself biting back a grin of her own.

She had questions for him; how he was, when he got back, if he was here to stay or not, and had he found someone? The questions piled on in her mind the longer they let the silence stretch on, and if she could read anything from his eyes he was curious about how she had been as well. She feared if she asked now they wouldn’t stop talking. But Sherlock was waiting for her.

“Maybe we can catch up over coffee some other time? Wouldn’t want to keep your friend hungry.”

Molly nodded gratefully for the suggestion. She really did want them to talk. Just for old times, she told herself.

Robert patted around his pockets to find his phone and came up short.

“I must have left it in my flat when I head out to Tesco.”

“That’s all right.” Molly pulled out her mobile to take his number.

“It’s the same as before but I wasn’t sure if—” he didn’t finish the last sentence, choosing instead to stuff his hands in to his pockets, a nervous habit she knew so well.

“I remember it.” The words tumbled out and was surprised to find out it was true. She did remember. All sorts of information were rising to the surface the longer she stayed in his presence; it was somewhat disconcerting, but not unwelcome. Robert was momentarily surprised by her words and broke into a smile.

A few moments passed as Molly realized this was the time people normally kissed, or hugged or said goo bye; but she didn't feel ready to do any of that then. Robert caught on to her uneasiness and took the initiative.

"All right, so I'll see you around?" Molly answered with a firm nod. She felt a twinge for his decision but knew deep down it had been the best choice for the situation.

“It was great seeing you again Molly.” He paused before saying the next words. “I missed you.”

He raised his hand up in a half-hearted goodbye before crossing the street to resume his path. It was only after Molly had watched his retreating back disappear off to a corner that she managed to identify the mild pang that seemed to pulse with every step he took.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally have a muse for Robert but I promise you it's not Breathtaking Captaincrunch (see? I knew you could still tell whom I was talking about *wink*). 
> 
> Tell me lovely things about it (or not, it's okay).  
> Comments are magic juju beans for my writing juice~


	3. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the next chapter. I may not be able to update next weekend so I made this chapter twice as long to make up for it. It might be good, it might be rubbish. Of course, I will you you like it :)

"Cat. He has a cat. Damn it, I always miss something."

It was much more obvious now, how much he had missed. The lack of hair from any other part of his person—most notably his sleeves—should have been a neon sign offering an alternative explanation. Dog owners often collected dog hairs in that area from the constant attention their pets received. The offhanded nature of cats normally required less care.

Furthermore, the dog hairs had also been limited to the ends of his jeans. Even with strays, he found people were susceptible to touch them. Sherlock could have pitched it to off to a dislike for dogs but given how Robert had made no effort to brush away the numerous hairs, he should have construed a cautious disposition.

 _'It seems you're losing your touch to sentiment now'_ a voice taunted. The unwelcome conscious reverberated from the hallway leading to Mycroft and he mentally slammed a door to that unwanted wing of his mind palace. He felt no desire to explore why he could have could have botched an arguably simple observation.

Sherlock shucked the coat off his shoulder as he took a seat by the window. He wouldn't be to see her when she arrived, but he knew Molly would appreciate the view of the street while they ate. A waiter arrived almost immediately to take his order, and he made a point to order new dishes he thought Molly might like.

Once the waiter left, Sherlock resumed his furtive assessment of his short interaction with Robert. The man had indicated no signs of familiarity or recognition when they first met, and he gave no expected physical cues when they shook hands. That, Sherlock observed, could be explained away by the fact he hadn't been in London for very long, therefore wasn't aware of his reputation. Sherlock estimated he had arrived no less than a month go but wasn't entirely, especially in regards to where the man may have resided before. At the very least he had expected some form of aggression, what with him not knowing the nature of his relationship with Molly; or had he already known? Sherlock frowned as his mind fast-forwarded to Robert's reaction.

He was sure Molly had missed the calculating look he had thrown him after his deduction. To Sherlock's surprise there had been no trace of irritation or the wonder most people had on having their actions so rudely revealed. Rather, it had been as if Sherlock had helped him confirm some conclusions of his own about him. His following statement about Sherlock's occupation had verified that, and Sherlock found himself developing an irrevocable dislike of the man. He never had to endure being on the receiving end of that kind arrogant scrutiny from anyone other than his brother. So this Robert wasn't an idiot; it still didn't prove there wasn't something wrong with him.

Sherlock's head snapped up at the sound of the chiming door, and watched as the door swung behind Molly. His subconscious had, to some degree, been keeping track of how much time passed since their parting, but Sherlock didn't realize just how irked he was about the delay until she made her way towards the table.

"Sorry about that." Molly said, taking the seat opposite of him. As she took off her coat he noted her flushed cheeks, and to his chagrin, deduced it had nothing to do with the weather or her haste to meet up with him. The food had just arrived, and Molly eyed the dishes with much enthusiasm, already reaching out for the cutlery. Sherlock's hunger had since dulled after taking up the mental bother that was her old flame.

He noted that she had spent five minutes and forty-eight seconds longer than necessary to end her little chat with _Robert_. Oh, how distasteful that name now sounded in his mind as he considered what may have passed between them. One look at her body language already told him that it had taken considerable effort on her part not to leave with him. He dare not think about the possibilities of where that route may have gone.

"So," he began not waiting for her to enjoy the first bite. " _Robby_."

Molly stopped her spoon in mid air to give him a look of mock awe.

"What?" He frowned, puzzled by her antics.

"I didn't think you'd remember his name."

"I just met him less than half an hour ago!"

"When has time ever stopped you from forgetting someone's name?" Molly smirked when he came up with no retort for that.

Sherlock watched her for several seconds as she stuffed her face with chana masala. He knew what she was trying to do. He was well aware of his infamous tendency to delete people he found unimportant, but the man in question wasn't nearly as forgetful as she would like him to think.

"He gave you his phone number."

"Mhm" was all she said as she reached out for a chapatti towards his left. Sherlock had a strong urge to pull the basket away from her reach but thought better of it. As far as she was concerned, his questions were out of idle curiosity and they were, to some extent. Sherlock had no desire to let her know how much the new character's existence was bothering him. He examined her closely and noticed she was fidgeting. Why was she fidgeting? She only did that when she wasn't being...oh.

"You already knew his number," he concluded.

"My gosh this is good. Does it have okra?" Molly marvelled as she took another mouthful of the dish in question.

"Bhindi masala fry," he answered despite himself, but chose not to push further in his inquiry. He knew Molly was aware of her evasiveness and would wait until she was willing to talk. After all, there were only so many dishes she could try to inhale before running out of something to occupy her mouth.

 

* * *

 

Molly couldn't understand why she was trying to avoid the subject of Robert. She had been somewhat surprised by his choice not to attack his character the moment she sat down. Then again, he had improved immensely after his return. He refrained from commenting on Tom for most of her engagement with him.

She nodded slowly as she noted the name of the dish she was now munching on. It really was good, she thought as she swallowed, preparing herself for what she was going to share with him.

"He was um, my first serious boyfriend. We met back in Edinburgh," she said somewhat shyly to the plate in front of her. "Things were great until they weren't, and we broke things off. I haven't seen or talked to him since we graduated though."

"And you seemed to be satisfied with that outcome until you saw him again today."

"Yeah," she said, still poking at the okra.

"And do you feel that would be wise?"

"What?" Molly looked up at Sherlock then, surprised by the tone in his voice. He had been objective in his inquires so far. She couldn't gather anything from the blank look he was giving her, but his attitude implied he had some kind of problem with it.

"Seeing him again," he clarified. "I gather your break up was not amicable."

He seemed to have deduced something about their past and Molly mentally urged herself not to get offensive. Well that, Molly came to realize, was easily said than done as she couldn't keep her next words from coming out.

"Since I'm sure he's not a conniving psychopath after your wellbeing, I don't see why you would care. Or-" she paused to give him a steely look. "-are you trying to suggest he's a criminal mastermind in his spare time?"

She watched as Sherlock eyed her arms now folded against her chest. She could imagine all the deductions he was making about her stance, needlessly supported by her harsh words. But to hell with it. She was annoyed.

"Don't be quick to dismiss people's misleading appearances but no, I'm not suggesting that possibility." Sherlock frowned when Molly interrupted with a disbelieving scoff.

"Clearly you're sensitive about the topic. I'm merely suggesting as a friend that you should think twice before reconnecting with someone who devastated your heart."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Yes of course, because you know all about romantic relationships, right?"

His eyes narrowed at her, but decided, to her frustration, not to take her emotional bait. She didn't like being the only unreasonable person in an argument. A few tense moments passed as she glared at him, and he in turn for he obviously didn't think he had done anything wrong. Finally, in an effort to diffuse her emotions, Molly directed her attention to the street. She found it was much better than looking at the insufferable man. She could feel herself relaxing as she watched the cars drive by.

"He didn't break my heart if that's what you're insinuating," she said quietly.

"No?" he asked, obviously not convinced.

She scowled at him. "Nothing is ever that simple. You know that, Sherlock."

"Then pray tell why else you're so worked up about the matter," he drawled.

"Because I broke it all on my own! " she yelled.

The heads around them turned towards them, but Molly didn't care as she glowered at Sherlock who just sat there dumbfounded.

"There I said it. Are you happy?"

Sherlock paused as he processed her words, then understanding finally washed over him.

"You regret ending things with him."

Hearing the words spoken out loud seemed to have broken a wall that now forced her to face the reason as to why she felt she had missed him; the reason why she had worked so hard to bury everything about him. The truth was overwhelming.

"Okay I can't do this right now," said, already feeling her throat tightening with emotion. "I should go." She reached for her coat behind her and was getting ready to get up when he spoke.

"No, wait! I'm sorry."

She paused, half up from her seat as she watched him also get up, like he was going to reach out for her. She knew he could apologize, he has done so quite a number of times before, but it never ceased to amaze her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, trying to reinforce his sincerity. "I didn't mean to upset you. I thought," he paused, searching for the words. "I thought I was being helpful."

She considered him for several seconds, and eventually came to the conclusion that she  may have overreacted. After all, her issues regarding Robert were her own to bear. Sherlock probably meant her well; he always had before and nothing had changed. He couldn't help it if the end result of his enquiries of her personal love life often ended up upsetting her. She could deal with her insecurities later in her own time.

With that resolution in place, she gave in."No, it's okay," she said as she sat back down, coat already returned to the back of the seat. Molly could see him relax when it was clear she had forgiven him. She always did anyway. "I don't even know why I got defensive," she chuckled out.

She raised her hand when she saw he was about to retort. "Giving me a psychological explanation will _not_ make me feel better Sherlock. Just nod sympathetically and carry on." Sherlock opened his mouth as if to reply and Molly rolled her eyes. He could be too stubborn.

"Why aren't you eating?" she asked. Sherlock blinked in confusion at the change in conversation. She silently motioned to his side of his table.

"You haven't touched a single dish."

"I'm not hungry," he answered bluntly.

She gave him a disapproving look until he reluctantly unloaded a dish onto his plate. A smile twitched up to her face as she noted his reluctance to do what he was being told, like a scorned child.

He didn't bring up Robert for the rest of the evening. The tensions between easily dissipated as they settled into their usual banter and she talked about a few autopsy cases she hadn't shared with him for the week. She only received the occasional look from him, indicating that he was trying to figure something out but chose not to comment. Truth be told, she was grateful he wasn't pushing the subject as she learned the hard way she would need time to think about Robert. It wasn't everyday someone had to face the biggest regrets in her life. She was allowed to be cautious about the matter.

 

* * *

 

The cab ride and walk back to her flat was rather uneventful. They enjoyed the comfortable silence that naturally fell when they were together, like when they worked at the lab. He got more immersed in the increasing number of texts he was receiving, but that wasn't unusual. She chalked it up to him trying to find a new case to occupy himself with.

They arrived at her doorstep soon enough. Knowing this was where they would part ways, Molly turned to face him.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow at the lab?"

Sherlock looked up from his mobile to frown at her. "Why would you think that?"

"You're supposed to clear out that ghastly experiment you left in the lab," she reminded, not at all surprised that he had forgotten. "The technicians are all afraid to go near your station."

Sherlock scoffed. "Cowards."

"What are you growing anyway?" She had examined one of the petri dishes and couldn't figure out why it was growing at an alarming rate. "I've never seen that kind of structure in a fungi before."

"It's not fungi," Sherlock said distractedly as another text fought for his attention. "You can clear it out if you want. And no, it's not hazardous, I think."

"Okay, uh bye." Molly said to his already retreating back. She shook her head to herself as she unlocked the door to her flat. He had come a long way in learning social niceties, but he still had a few things he needed to work on.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock hailed a cab as he replied to a text from Wiggins. He had sent out a generic inquiry of Robert and assigned a part of his Network to his area to monitor him.

_Are you sure he's clean? -SH_

_Unless being an upstanding human being is a crime, I don't know what to tell ya –W_

He let out a frustrated sigh. After giving the driver curt directions to Baker Street, he sat back to contemplate the evening. He had made the erroneous assumption that the Robert had been in the wrong, and unintentionally upset Molly in the process. He had long since learned that he didn't like making her unhappy if he could help it.

Thankfully, he had been to rectify the situation, but he was now faced with a problem. It would have been much easier to get rid of Robert if he had in fact hurt Molly. It certainly did not help that Robert held no contempt for her past decision. His chest tightened when he suddenly recalled the most addict deduction he had made that evening. _'You regret ending things with him.'_ The sudden panic that flared in him when she moved was unsettling, but he assumed it was because he hates to make her cry. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an incoming text and was irritated by what he saw.

_Does the missus know you're screening her ex? –W_

Like a knee-jerk reaction, a thought broke through to ask himself why the notion of Robert being a good man was unacceptable. He immediately countered by pointing out he would have the upper hand in the relationship. Guilt and regret can be powerful motivators, and he would not like Molly to be bound to anyone under them. No man, he decided, should ever have that much power over his pathologist's heart. Anyway, people were hardly ever what they seemed.

_Irrelevant. Find out what he's doing in London –SH_

_Okay, but are you sure you know why you're doing this? –W_

_Get on with it Wiggins before I find another prodigy - SH_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, other characters are going to show up soon. Mary and John will definitely be in the next chapter. I just needed to establish Sherlock and Molly's mentality so that everything else will make sense later on. Please comment~ I love your encouragements!


	4. Call Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated it this week was promised. 
> 
> I hope it's acceptable

The claim that the ‘not fungi’ specimen was not hazardous turned out to be utter rubbish. Molly sighed as she watched the last Hazmat suit vacate her quarantined lab. It wasn't even 9am and already Sherlock had complicated her entire day. She now had an intern recovering from a panic attack after witnessing some kind of sporadic explosion at his station and the threat of a disciplinary hearing loomed over her. If her phone wasn’t dead she could have called the MIA consulting detective and given him a piece of her mind.

An awkward meeting with Stamford cleared her disciplinary fears, but the paperwork she was designated to be in charge of to 'document the incident' would be enough to keep her miffed for the rest of the morning. It didn't help remembering that she was already backlogged with reports.

Resigned to her fate, Molly took a seat in the employee work and set to work. Her office happened to be situated too close to the lab, and although the biohazard threat had been deemed benign, no one was allowed in the area until tomorrow for safety purposes.

* * *

“Who knew the lab life could be so exciting?”

Molly glanced up to see a beaming Mary sitting across from her.

“Oh hi. You heard already?”

“It’s a bit difficult not to. I happened to see the hysterical intern retelling his encounter to another nurse upstairs.”

Molly groaned into the table, earning a grin from Mary who quickly sobered up when she asked. “Wait, you won’t get into trouble over this right?”

“No, I've just been sentenced to deal with the paperwork,” she explained, glaring at the offensive documents in front of her. How she hated dealing with the bureaucratic bother that is paperwork, especially the kind that had nothing to do with autopsies.

“By the way, where is the mad scientist? Don’t tell me he didn’t show.”She gave a sympathetic smile when Molly shook her head.

“The prat must have forgotten about clearing it up before things blew up…literally.” Mary chortled at her words, and Molly found her smiling despite herself.

“And he never loses his lab privileges over it?”

“Mycroft,” was Molly's answer.

To that they both nodded solemnly, as they were unable to imagine how many problems the man has had to resolve for his erratic brother.

“So how'd your crime solving date go?”

"My what?” she asked, thrown off by the sudden change in topic.

“The case, Molly. With Sherlock?”

“Oh that.” She looked down thoughtfully as her mind wandered to yesterday’s events. The chaos of the morning had not given her much time to ponder; not that it was necessary, given how she spent most of her night contemplating it.

“Did something happen?”

“Hm?” She looked up to see Mary’s easy-going smile fall to a look of concern. “Oh no it was fine.” Molly tried to look casual. She really should learn to work on a poker face. “It’s just we kind of ran into an ex of mine afterward and I guess I’m still getting my head around that.”

“Did he do something stupid?”

“What, my ex?”

“No, I mean Sherlock.” Molly frowned again at her again before she understood what Mary was concerned about.

“Oh, nothing more than usual,” she clarified, immediately realizing it was something she shouldn’t have said when Mary’s eyes lit up with curiosity and was soon forced to retell the yesterday events.

“He apologised?” Mary asked at the end of her tale.

She nodded through Mary's incredulity.

“And you didn’t think his questions were—I dunno—too nosy?”

Molly folded her arms and pretended to think about it. “You do realize this is Sherlock we’re talking about?”

But Mary pressed on. “Well never talked about Meat Dagger.”

Molly groaned. “You promised to stop calling him that.”

Mary raised her eyebrows at her. “I’m sorry, did you _not_ attend my wedding?”

“Oh fine I give up.” Molly sighed back into her seat. She didn’t know why she even bothered. It would seem that everyone in her friend circle was determined to have her former fiancé remembered that way no matter what.

“So did you call him?” Mary asked changing the subject. “Your ex I mean.”

“No,” She said too hastily. She hadn’t called him, but she had come close last night, even going as far as dialling the number before immediately hanging up. Mary must have caught on to it for she asked.

“Why not? I’m sure you’re at least curious about what he’s been up to.”

"I am but..." But she wasn't sure about why she wanted to. She couldn't help feeling a sense of guilt over wanting to after all this time. Molly tried to express that concern to Mary who just shut her eyes, trying to follow her line of thought.

“Wait, I thought it was his idea to reconnect.”

“It was."

“Did he make you feel obligated to call him?”

“No.”

“Do you want to call him?”

She hesitated for a moment, but the answer was still clear.

“Then what are you worried about?” Mary threw her hands in exasperation.

Mary was right. She knew that. It just felt better getting reassured about it from someone other than herself. Sherlock had been no help on the front.

"Okay let's not get ahead of ourselves. He could turn out to be a dull character. What do we know about him?" Mary asked, shifting forward in her seat to let Molly feel the full her full attention.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked, confused by the new line of questioning.

“Have you heard anything about him over the years?”

“Uh, no.”

“And you never looked up him" Molly shook her head. "Wow, not even a Google search?” Mary gaped at her as if it was unimaginable.

“Well I was trying to do everything I could to keep him in the past…” Molly words pattered out as she watched Mary pull out her phone. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” She grinned at the alarmed look on Molly’s face.

“Mary,” she warned, eyeing the mobile in her hands warily.

“Come on Molly,” she begged, even going far as pouting for effect. “Humour me a little.” She looked up to give her a wink. “Do you even know what he does for a living?”

“Well not really but—”

“And you’re not even curious?”

“I—” she paused when she seriously considered the question. Mary didn’t even wait for her response, sensing her changed resolve.

“Knew you’d come around. So his name?”

She shifted in her seat as she considered not going through with it. It was all for naught as she could already feel her curiosity getting the better of her. After all it wouldn’t hurt to know that much about him.

“Robert. Robert Gladwell.”

“Robert G—” Mary’s thumbs paused over the keyboard. Molly glanced up from the phone to give her a puzzled look.

“Gladwell right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Sorry I misspelled it.” She laughed as she typed the name into her smartphone.

Despite herself, Molly leaned in closer, in anticipation for what Molly was going to discover. It didn’t take long.

“Oh look he’s in your alum bulletin!” Mary turned to face and was disappointed to see Molly return a blank stare. “Don’t you read it?”

“On top of all the other medical journals I have to read? No, I'm afraid not.”

“Okay well if you _had_ , you would know that starting next semester, he’ll be a professor there. Not bad.”

“A what?” She must have heard wrong. Getting up to take the seat beside Mary, she peered down at the article as Mary read it out loud.

" ' _The Edinburgh College of Humanities and Social Sciences welcomes Robert Gladwell, acclaimed Neuropsychologist and honored alum to lecture a new course in the Cognitive Science program._ ’ ”

Mary scrolled through the article, frowning. “How do they not have a photo of him?”

Molly barely registered the question. The neuropsychology bit sounded right. “Wait a professor, like a proper one?” She asked, trying to reconcile that profession with the man she remembered. She was having a hard time doing so and laugh escaped her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just that Robby was such a terrible student.” She said in between laughs. “No, I mean he was brilliant,” she explained, seeing Mary quirk up an eyebrow inquisitively. “Really brilliant. But he liked to ruffle the professors’ feathers a bit too much in class. Some downright hated him, especially the incompetent ones."

A smile twitched up to her lips when  she recalled a certain Biology professor who would turn beet red at the very mention of Robert’s name. But still, a professor and _‘honoured alum'_? She would love to find out how that came about.

“ _Oh_. I see.”

“What?” She asked, suddenly pulled away from her reminiscence from the coy tone in Mary’s voice.

“It’s just glaringly obvious you have a type. Wow, Meat Dagger must have been quite the hiccup.” She grinned when Molly rolled her eyes. “Okay, I’ll stop now. My coffee break's almost up anyway.”

She stood up. “You’re still coming over to babysit tonight right?”

“Right.” Molly smiled as she thought of their adorable daughter. Regina, who had inherited her mother’s golden hair and father’s versatile ocean-blue eyes was a joy to be with. She could be a handful though, and so Molly didn’t blame her parents for needing a small break. “I hope you and John enjoy your date. I’m sure you’re looking forward to it.” 

"Just like I’m sure you will be once you set yours up with _Robby_ right?” Mary winked down at Molly.

“I haven’t—”she spluttered. Mary’s smile grew into a wide grin.

“I know you've already decided to call him."

She opened her mouth once more to refute her words, but closed it when she realised that Mary was right. “It won’t be a date though,” she mumbled.

“Whatever label makes you feel better dear.” Mary bent down to give Molly a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck with the paperwork! And keep me updated about your ex development yeah?”

“There will be no development of that sort!” she called out loudly to Mary who was already walking away.

“We’ll see,” she waved back before disappearing around the corner.

 

* * *

 

Mary's cheerful smile fell slowly as she rounded the corner to the elevator. 

_Gladwell._

Why did that ring a bell? It wasn’t terribly common, but it didn’t alert to anything she should be concerned about. So why did it tug at the outskirts of her mind? She was making a mental note to look into it when her mobile sprang to life, breaking through her thoughts. The unfamiliar Caller ID gave her pause, but she chose to pick it up anyway.

  
“Hello?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! John didn't make this chapter's cut after all. It's annoying when characters decide to do their own thing. John and Sherlock are definitely in the next one. I see Robert reappearing towards the end of the next chapter or the beginning of the following one.
> 
> Thank you for all the Kudos and comments so far!  
> Feedback is always lovely!


End file.
